Rogue
by BloodLikeIce
Summary: The Clans are ravaged by disease, and the cats have turned their backs on their warrior ancestors, and only the faith of a rogue cat may save them...
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Warriors, and I never will.

**Rated: **T

PROLOGUE

Many seasons had passed since the time of Firestar and his powerful offspring. The forest had been quiet for longer than any cat could remember. The Clans lived in relative peace, with the occasional conflict; even the great leader had realized that such disputes were natural and should be allowed. The long, bitter wars, however, were caused by something much more sinister; the cold hatred stirred up every once in awhile by cats such as the infamous Tigerstar, Hawkfrost, and Scourge. That caused unnatural rivalries in the Clans and threatened all life, and StarClan sent heroes to save the Clans and show that even the smallest and most unexpected could become great.

But now something rotten had made its way into the life of the Clans. Silently it came, twisting the minds and emotions and causing friend to turn on friend. It could turn the most peaceful cats into cold-hearted murderers, though they never realized it was them that was doing the slaughtering of innocents; it had that effect on those it claimed as its own.

Slowly and quietly, it passed from cat to cat, taking their minds and controlling their movements. Wild-eyed and snarling, those infected soon turned to murder and deceit, and the healthy cats began to retaliate. Orders were given, and those infected were killed, leaving great gaps in the ranks. But the terrible disease continued to spread through the cats of StarClan, until they turned their backs on their own ancestors and fought bitterly, living in the moment, not trusting any-one. Dark ambitions took hold, and those who fancied themselves leaders took their power by force.

The warrior code was dissolved; the spirits were broken. The Clans would never be the same again...


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Warriors. If I did, I wouldn't be broke.

**Rating:** T

**Author's Note:** First chapter! Hope you like it.

And if you notice there are some irregularities with the main character's name...I had a bit of trouble choosing it, and I kept going through and changing it until it was just right. I might have missed changing it a few times...

CHAPTER ONE

_The pounding of paws on the _ground above, followed by a light shower of dust stirred the kit into wakefulness. He blinked, squinching up his face as the powder entered his eyes. He made no sound as he washed his eyes out, then retreating further into the den. After moons of hiding, he knew to keep quiet and out of the way whenever the fighting started again.

He closed his eyes again, thinking back to when he was very young. His first memory was flight across dark waters that rushed across the land, carrying branches and other forest debris with it as it raced for the lake. He was being carried by his scruff by his mother across the stream that was the border with WindClan as she fled the Clan and her vicious father. He remembered his mother's fear-scent and the way she had growled at him when he tried to squirm out of her grasp. She had been frantic, fearing the punishment if she were caught before she made it out of the Clans' territories. She had no real plan past getting away.

_And now look where it got her_, he thought angrily, eyes narrowing in the gloom, barely able to make out the dark shapes flitting past the entrance to his den as the warriors fought each other. _She's got no Clan, no home, and she's always fighting the rogues. She's got no honour at all, has she? _

He snorted, knowing that he was no better. The bastard son of Rosefoot the Rogue, as his mother was called. He had no idea who his father was, and he didn't care. _He's a coward, leaving mum to fight by herself. He's no warrior._

The kit had built up enough hatred for his kind in the past six moons than many cats do in a lifetime, and he lay down, resting his head on his forepaws as he thought curses of his mother, former Clan, and all the rogues they met on their lonely journey to wherever Redfoot thought to take them. _Why does life have to be like this? _he thought sadly. _I wish-_

_No_, he snapped. _I don't wish anything. I must show no emotion, for emotion is weakness. I must not let foolish sentiments to get in my way_.

He stood, giving himself a little shake to get rid of the last of the sand. The fighting had died down outside, and he stuck his head out of the entrance to check the damage.

The grass around the fox den where he had been sheltering was torn by claws, and fresh blood stained the grass, some of it pooling around still shapes on the earth. The kit stalked cooly by each body, the merest narrowing of eyes betraying his disgust. The other cats were skinny rogues, stinking of crowfood and malnourishment; easy for Redfoot to defeat. _Dark forest, _I_ could take one of them, kit or no_. he thought.

A lone shape padded through the grass towards him, tail high in pride at the outcome of the fight. The kit stopped as his mother stood before him.

Rosefoot was still a proud warrior cat, though skinnier now that she was on the run and taking care of her kit, not to mention fighting at every campsite. She was dark ginger, with near-black stripes and a creamy throat. She looked more like a small tiger than a forest cat, and her eyes were a similar shade of pure gold. When she spoke, her voice was gentler than many would expect, given the scars that traced a course over her tough body. Her kit knew many enemies had been fooled by her good looks and motherly voice, and many had paid for their mistake with their lives. He really was proud of his mother, though he sometimes felt ashamed that she had been the mother to a fatherless kit, and she had run away from her duty in her Clan.

"Wolfkit," she meowed, golden eyes shining in the gloom. "You should not be out here. Go back to the den."

"I needed some fresh air," Wolfkit replied, tail twitching. "It was stuffy in there."

"How much fresh air could you get out here?" Rosefoot mewed with black humour familiar to Wolfkit. "The Dark Forest's stench blocks out every scent of freshness in this place. How about we keep moving until dawn, then we can get some rest?"

Wolfkit nodded eagerly, trotting to keep up with Rosefoot as she strode easily over the hill. As they descended into another small valley, Wolfkit questioned, "Do you know who these rogues were, mum?"

"One introduced himself as Poisonfang," Rosefoot growled, swerving to avoid a patch of wet grass. "A Clan-like name, but he was most definitely not a cat from any Clan I know of. The others were his little pals, bullies like Frogtail and Lousepelt back home. Do you remember them?"

How could he forget? The two warriors had taken him to the top of the wall around the ThunderClan camp and threatened to drop him over the highest point. They were bullies and cowards through and through, well able to deal with a young kit, but lacking the strength and will to challenge a bigger opponent. He almost pitied cats like that, but he stopped himself. _Save your pity for their victims_, his mother had often told him. She was wise, something that almost--almost-- made up for her running away.

"Of course I remember those heaps of foxdung," he snorted. "I hope they rot."

Rosefoot looked sideways at her son. There was such anger in the young cat, a coldness to his attitude that reminded her of the Clans. She shivered, and turned her face to the mountains, where she knew the Tribe of Rushing Water lived. She feared for her only kit, and prayed to whoever would listen that he would not be like the cats they had left behind. "The only thing bred in the Clans these days is cruelty," she whispered sadly.

"What?"

"Nothing, Wolfkit," Rosefoot answered as her son turned to her.

Wolfkit turned away with a sigh. He sometimes felt lonely, with no other kits to play with. He wished he had littermates, but he knew they had died early in life, though he never knew how. _They were just too weak_. he thought calously. _I was the strongest, which is why I survived._

"Mum," he meowed as they climbed yet another hill. "Will I ever get my apprentice name? I don't want to be called Wolfkit when I'm an adult."

Rosefoot thought about this for a moment. "Well, I have no authority to change your name, Wolfkit. I'm only your mother, not a Clan leader. StarClan wouldn't accept your change of name."

"StarClan?"

"Yes. Those of us who follow the warrior code go to join our warrior ancestors in Silverpelt when we die," Rosefoot meowed, glancing up at the bright lights twinkling above. "Then we will watch over our Clan for eternity, and send messages to the medicine cats and new leaders when they share at the Moonpool."

Wolfkit stirred at the mention of such a mystical power. "But I don't remember Clawedstar going to the Moonpool when he was made leader," he growled. "Why didn't he share with StarClan?"

"The Clans have long forgotten our ancient connection with StarClan," his mother answered. "We have left behind all of our old ways and become no more than rogues. W-"

"We're still better than rogues!" Wolfkit exclaimed. "We don't eat crowfood, and we live in Clans, not scavenging after every stray piece of meat they can get their claws on. We have status, and they have nothing but the mangy fur on their backs."

Rosefoot gazed back at him quietly. "We are rogues now, too," she meowed. "For we have no Clan. We may not be scavenging now, but if we leave this prey-rich area to poorer country, we may have to scavenge to survive. It is life, my son. Sometimes we must leave comfort behind and accept that we must eat whatever we can find to keep going."

The kit narrowed his eyes, thinking about what his mother had said. He hated when she spoke as if she knew everything sometimes, but other times he felt that he respected what she believed more than any other cat. His mother seemed to know a lot about the world, and he loved to hear her stories. "Mum," he mewed suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. "Can we go see the Moonpool before we leave? Please? Maybe StarClan can give me my name there!"

The ginger queen stopped and looked back. They were far from ThunderClan territory, but not far from the Moonpool. If they hurried, they might make it there before the moon left the sky.

"Alright," she meowed. "We can go to the Moonpool. But you must be on your best behaviour, Wolfkit. StarClan are not to be trifled with. You must treat them with respect. Also, do not get your hopes up; StarClan might not appear for us."

Wolfkit nodded eagerly, excited at the prospect of discovering the secrets of their warrior ancestors. _I'm going to meet StarClan!_


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Warriors. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fictions.

**Rated: **T

**Author's Note: **I just noticed I forgot to add Wolfkit's description in the first chapter. He's a rather large smoky gray tom with golden eyes.

CHAPTER TWO

_The hollow shone with a mystical_ light as the moon's light caressed the rocks, and Wolfkit stopped, mouth falling open in amazement. "Wow!" he meowed. "It's beautiful, mum!"

"It is indeed," Rosefoot agreed.

Wolfkit gazed about him with awe, and felt something strange pass by him. He looked around him, half expecting to see other cats around him. When he saw none but his mother he shivered; he had felt as if cats were brushing against him as they past on either side.

Rosefoot led the way down the stone steps, and as Wolfkit looked down at the rocks, he saw pawprints in the ancient stones. _How long ago were these made?_ he wondered.

The dark ginger she-cat stopped in front of the water, motioning to her son with her tail. "I was told by Littletoe that, in order to meet StarClan in dreams, you must drink from the water," her whiskers twitched sadly as she remembered ThunderClan's medicine cat, who had passed away two moons ago. "Perhaps we may meet him, if StarClan comes."

She bent her head and lapped up the water. She let out a small gasp and shivered, and Wolfkit guessed that the water must be bitterly cold; he could smell the coolness coming off it, along with a scent of something else that he couldn't make out. Rosefoot closed her eyes and lay with her head on her paws, eyes closed. The black kit looked down at the water, then followed her example.

Ice flooded his veins and stars flashed before him. He did not lay down, but fell backwards, into black.

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He opened his eyes slowly, cold still freezing his limbs. Swiftly, he closed his eyes again. Everything around him was much sharper, with brighter colours than could ever be natural. _Where am I?_ he wondered.

Sitting upright, he inched his eyes open again. Blinking owlishly, he gazed about him, awed by the beauty of the forest clearing. He did not recognize the place, but it looked like the same type of forest that could be found on ThunderClan's territory. He could not see any sign of StarClan, however, so he figured that this must be just a normal dream.

Getting to his paws, he padded to the edge of the grassy clearing, peering out into the forest. It was denser and dimmer than in ThunderClan territory, and he felt the first stirrings of fear. The place, though beautiful, had a threatening feeling to it, like the feeling before a summer storm. He shivered, the cold still not having left his body, and turned back to the clearing.

A fierce cry erupted from above, and he felt a stinging pain as sharp claws dug into his back. With a yowl, he twisted and flailed, scoring his claws across the feathered breast of a large bird of prey. He managed to break free, feeling as if he left half his pelt in the clutches of his enemy. He didn't look back once as he took flight, dashing away into the dark and mysterious forest of his dreams.

The trees flashed past in a blur of bright colours that blended together in his mind. They swirled and formed a pool of colour all around him as he ran. Then he skidded to a halt and they changed, forming a new scene.

Now he was in a grassy clearing, surrounded by walls of stone. He looked around, seeing the dens of the ThunderClan camp, but he could spot no other cats. "Hello?" he called, his voice echoing eerily. "Is any-one there?"

A whisper passed through the trees above the old quarry. It grew louder and louder, an excited sound, full of hope and wonder. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see what creatures prowled about. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Show yourselves!"

There was a glitter of light as cats emerged from the bushes surrounding the camp. Wolfkit stiffened as he saw how many there were. _There's about as many here as there are stars in the sky!_ he thought, then suddenly realized: this was StarClan.

He fell to his paws in front of his warrior ancestors, lowering his eyes humbly. He fought to control the awed trembling in his shoulders as the hollow was lit by their starry glow. He closed his eyes fearfully, feeling stupid at his demanding they come forward. _I'm in for it now_. he thought glumly. _Why did I have to open my big mouth?_

He felt rather than saw one shape detach itself from the gathering of starry warriors and pad towards him. Its paws made no imprint on the forest floor, though for a brief moment his trail sparkled behind him. When Wolfkit dared to raise his eyes a bit, he saw that the powerful cat's fur was a deep, firey red.

The flaming warrior surveyed him quietly for a few moments, then spoke. His voice was kind and brave, and Wolfkit immediately felt that he could trust this cat. His shoulders stopped trembling as the StarClan warrior meowed, "Welcome, young Wolfkit. We have been expecting you."

Wolfkit looked down at his paws, his mind on fire. _How could they know the future like that?_ he wondered.

As if the ginger tom had heard his thoughts, he answered, "StarClan has the ability of prophecy, young one. We can see some of the future, and send messages to the medicine cats and leaders--and sometimes other cats--in the Clans. We knew of your birth before even your mother was kitted."

"But...but why are you so interested in me?" Wolfkit bit his lip as his voice echoed thinly off the stone walls. He felt like a two-moon old kit again, his voice tiny and squeaky like a mouse's compared to this great warrior. He still studied his paws carefully.

"There's no need to burden one so young," the cat meowed quietly. Wolfkit blinked, and he continued, "You will know in due time, Wolfkit. But until then...you came here for another purpose."

He nodded. "Yes. I didn't really want the name Wolfkit forever." He wrinkled his nose.

"Understandable. I will perform the ceremony." The ginger tom stood tall, and Wolfkit couldn't help but look up at him. He stifled a gasp as he saw the brilliant green eyes and flaming pelt. Could it be...?

"Wolfkit, from this moment, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Wolfpaw." The warrior cocked his head, as if listening to something far away. Then he nodded. "May the world be your mentor, and may you learn from it what you need to for when you take your place among the warriors of your Clan." He padded forward and bent his head. For a moment, Wolfpaw was confused. Then he realized what he was expected to do and reached forward, touching his nose to the warrior's.

With a flash, he saw a young ginger tom leap a fence and pad into a forest, joining two warriors and following them at speed to a hollow similar to the one in which they stood now. A blue-gray she-cat greeted him, and welcomed him to her Clan. The scene changed swiftly: the same ginger tom struggled through a river to reach two mewling kits, risking his life to give two enemy warriors a future. Then he saw a huge battle, with nine cats weaving around the ginger warrior as he charged a skinny black tom, who snarled as he raised claws reinforced with dog's teeth. Faster and faster scenes came, memories of a long, lonely journey to find the truth of an elderly cat's prophecy, then four Clans of cats travelling through the mountains to reach a lake, and learning of a new prophecy, that spoke of blood and death and betrayal of the deepest kind.

_Remember. _The ginger warrior's voice sounded in his head. _Remember what you are and never forget your duty_.

Then the contact was gone and Wolfpaw shook his head, darkness clouding his vision. He saw the fire-pelted warrior's face one last time as everything else around him faded. "Who are you?" he meowed.

The ginger warrior's whiskers twitched. "My name is Firestar," he answered.

Wolfpaw opened his mouth, feeling a thrill of wonderment pass through him. Then he was blinking his eyes open at the edge of the Moonpool, his mother stirring beside him.

"Mum!" he meowed, leaping to his paws. "Mum, I've got my apprentice name! _And _I met Firestar, the great hero! Mum, I want to be like Firestar when I'm grown."

Rosefoot shook herself, her eyes clouded. Wolfpaw cocked his head. What was wrong with Rosefoot? Usually, she was bright and cheerful, even in bad weather. "Mum?" he questioned.

"Nothing, Wolfkit," the former ThunderClan queen answered. "Or should I say Wolf_paw_ now?"

"Wolfpaw!" He pranced about beside the pool of water that still reflected the few StarClan warriors left in the pre-dawn sky. "I'm an apprentice now! Firestar said I would learn a lot."

"You won't have the time, rogue scum."

Rosefoot and Wolfpaw whipped around, hackles raised. Three ThunderClan cats stood at the top of the hollow, eyes glinting green in the half-light. The lead cat was a big light brown tabby with matted clumps of fur. He bared his teeth in a hunter's triumphant grin. "Attack!" he yowled.

The other two warriors raced down the stone steps to the Moonpool, paws splashing in the shallows. A black she-cat leapt at Rosefoot, screeching with battle-rage. She swiped a claw across Rosefoot's muzzle, and Wolfpaw growled low in his throat. _Don't touch my mother!_ he yowled silently. He wriggled his haunches, claws sliding out as Rosefoot bowled the black warrior over, thumping her belly with her hind paws, tearing scraps of fur from the ThunderClan cat's belly.

Suddenly, and silver tabby stood before Wolfpaw, leering at the smaller apprentice. "Ah, a _kit_," he growled. "Excellent. Kit fur is much better than moss for lining a real Clan warrior's nest."

"You'll never know, coward," Wolfpaw hissed, his heart beating faster at the threat, but determined not to show fear. "You won't leave this hollow alive!"

The tabby stopped, whiskers twitching in amusement. "Hey, look at this bold little scrap! A kit, threatening a warrior? What a mouse-brained fool."

He pounced, and knocked Wolfpaw down, raising a paw to give him a nasty scratch. Immediately, Wolfpaw saw his chance and kicked the bigger cat's stomach, causing the silver tabby to let his breath out in a woosh. As the warrior fought for his breath, Wolfpaw snarled, leaping forward and scratching the cat again and again. The warrior howled, spluttering and shielding his eyes from the apprentice's attack. The gray rogue bit his enemy's tail, and the warrior raced out of the hollow, yowling.

Panting, Wolfpaw turned back to his mother's fight. The dark ginger she-cat had sent the black she-cat running, leaving bloody pawprints on the rocks. She had pinned down the brown tabby and was hissing in his ear, "Tell Snowstar that his days are numbered!" She gave him a last thump on the head, then let the dazed tom run out of the hollow back to his camp.

Rosefoot turned to her son, her flanks heaving. "Well fought, Wolfpaw!" she praised him. "Your first battle, no training, and you sent Icefur running scared! You'll make a great warrior one day."

Wolfpaw brightened at her praise, but meowed, "Mum, we're not in ThunderClan anymore...how can I be a warrior?"

"You can still be a warrior, as long as you follow the warrior code." Rosefoot licked his head as she had done many times when he was a kit. "StarClan knows you are a good cat, and they'll accept you as a warrior any day. ThunderClan has no warriors anymore." Her golden eyes darkened, and her tail twitched with pain. Wolfpaw padded over to his mother and pressed himself to her flank. "We're away from them now, Mum," he mewed. "Don't worry; I'll be here to protect you, and StarClan will always be with us."

As he said this, he recalled what Firestar had said. _Remember what you are and never forget your duty._

"I won't, Firestar," Wolfpaw whispered to the silent pool beside him. "I won't ever forget."


	4. Author's Note

**Author's Note:** I've been having some problems lately, and I won't be able to update for a bit. I don't know how long, but I don't think it'll be too long of a wait. I'm sorry, but I've just got too much going on.


	5. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Warriors. Simple as that.

**Rated:** T

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait! Here's the third chapter. :)

CHAPTER THREE

_Wolfpaw blinked the rain from his_ eyes as he struggled up the slippery hill, sinking his claws into the thin grass that covered the slope. Everywhere was dark and cold, but there was no shelter to be found in this land of endless hills. His legs burned with the effort of hauling his body up hill after hill after hill, and having to stop himself from sliding down the other side. He could see his mother's dark ginger pelt directly in front of him and kept one eye on her the whole time, careful not to lose sight of her. In this dark and wet, if he lost sight of her for a few moments, he might never see her again.

_Keep going, Wolfpaw,_ he thought as his paws found the slope of yet another hill. _You'll make it. You've got to. _

He gritted his teeth, his limbs yowling their protests, but he ignored them, tearing up clumps of grass as he pulled himself step by step up the rain-slicked hill. He no longer felt the rain, it had made him so numb with its constant blows upon his back. He felt no chill now, he was hot with exhaustion, but he knew he'd be cold later, and he couldn't get his mind off a nice, warm nest with fresh-kill right before his nose, where he didn't have to reach to take a bite.

Sighing, he let his mind drift in the fantasy, sniffing the air as if he hoped to catch the scent of the imaginary fresh-kill. He felt the cold pass away and a warmth envelope him as he drifted away on a bed of feathers, closing his eyes contentedly. He was in the ThunderClan nursery, a small sanctuary in the chaos of the camp. He could vaguely remember laying in the curve of his mother's belly, suckling alongside his siblings, who had died shortly after. He never knew how they died, only that they had passed away when they were less than a moon old...

He heard a strangled yowl of fear and he started, brought back to the present in a second. Icy fear burst upon his senses as he saw that he had wandered dangerously close to the edge of a gorge. The edges ran down until the raging river at the bottom seemed to be only a trickling stream. The other side was far away; if a cat could jump that far, they would have to be a StarClan warrior.

Rosefoot grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him back to safer ground. She let him go and began to lick him furiously, her fear-scent tainting the air and her fur bristling. "What in the name of StarClan were you doing, Wolfpaw!" she growled, her tongue rough on his back. "You could have been killed!"

"Sorry, mum," he meowed, voice muffled by his mother's fur. "I was, um, daydreaming."

Rosefoot pulled back, her golden eyes serious. "Wolfpaw, we'll make it; I promise you. I won't let us go to StarClan so soon."

_Is she a mind-reader or something?_ Wolfpaw thought, feeling a vague sense of disquiet. He merely nodded and got to his paws, and walked alongside his mother as she led him along the line of the gorge, keeping two tail-lenths between them and the edge. The young tom felt slightly sick as he thought about the terrifying depths, and his paws felt cold, though his body was full of energy, thanks to the adrenaline rush.

The two rogues struggled through the cold rain, whiskers dripping with wet and heads bent under the weight of the water. Wolfpaw glanced up for a moment, and thought he detected a darker smudge at the top of the next hill. "Mom," he yowled above the storm. "Is that a forest over there?"

Rosefoot stopped for a moment, blinking rain away from her eyes. "I think it's a small copse," she answered. "Come on, Wolfpaw; we'll shelter there."

Feeling light-headed with relief, Wolfpaw sent up silent meow of thanks to StarClan. He forced himself to move at the same pace he had been all day and most of the night, so as not to slip on the way down the hill. He dug in his back claws, padding calmly down the hill beside his mother.

As his paws found the slope of the next hill, the one topped by the copse, he suddenly felt the need to run. It overwhelmed it. Yowling, he raced up the slope, and Rosefoot darted after him, calling, "Wolfpaw! Slow down!"

But he couldn't slow down, even though he wanted to, for his body was racing for the trees; he felt a great need to escape something, though he did not know what.

A moment later, the skies split open with a fierce light. Wolfpaw's fur stood on end as the lightning bolt hit the ground just behind them, and he yowled with pain at the clap of thunder that followed. For a few terrifying moments, all his senses failed and he stumbled, unable to hear or see as his mind flooded with fear. Then he was jolted back to reality as thunder sounded again and he blinked owlishly.

Rosefoot stood beside him, her eyes wide with fear and her tail fluffed up. "That was close." was all she managed to gasp out as she trembled.

Wolfpaw nodded, unable to think of an intelligent reply. If they hadn't started running...

"Wolfpaw, we need to keep moving." His mother tried to hide her confusion and shock at what had just happened, and nudged him to walk. "The rain is getting worse."

The two former ThunderClan cats entered the copse, and immediately Rosefoot meowed, "We must find a den or cave; lightning likes to strike trees first, but we need to stay here to get dry and warm."

He nodded and began to search about, shaking the water from his pelt. After awhile his mother called, "Wolfpaw!"

He hurried over to her, his limbs protesting. He was chilled through and his paws felt like stone. He found his mother standing at the entrance to a den in a small ravine. She gestured at it with her tail. "No scent," she meowed. "It's safe."

Again, Wolfpaw thanked his warrior ancestors for providing them with shelter. He followed Rosefoot inside, and found that the den was quite small, but more than enough for two cold and wet cats. There was no sign of other animals, and they quickly lay down, curling close together and closing their eyes. Gradually his shivering subsided and Wolfpaw fell into a deep sleep.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The animal snarled, its hot breath close to Wolfpaw's tail as the young cat raced away at top speed, heart pounding. He didn't know where he was, only that he was in strange woods far from Clan territory, being chased by something that looked like a dog, only much bigger and more wild.

He chanced a quick look over his shoulder and saw that the shaggy gray creature was close behind him, and getting closer all the time. Wolfpaw's breath came in gasps, and he felt worn out and weak. The other animal seemed to be able to run forever at a constant pace that rivaled his own. _I'll never outrun it,_ he thought fearfully. _It's going to- oh, StarClan!_

He looked on from above as the animal caught up with him, sinking its huge teeth into his body and tearing him to bits. He yowled in agony, kicking out with all four paws and striking a soft, furry body.

"Wolfpaw! Wolfpaw, wake up!"

Wolfpaw blinked awake, staring into the eyes of his mother above him. He gasped, his throat dry from screaming. He trembled as his mother asked, "Wolfpaw, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?"

He nodded, still breathing hard, feeling as if he really had run like he had in his dream. "Yes. There was a huge animal, like a dog, but much bigger and fiercer, with gray fur and amber eyes. It was chasing me."

Rosefoot gave him a comforting lick. "Poor kit," she murmured. "That was a wolf you dreamt of."

Wolfpaw bristled at his being referred to as a kit, but the mention of a wolf interested him. "A wolf?" he meowed. "So that's what they look like."

"Yes. There aren't many around anymore, because Twolegs hunt them." Rosefoot narrowed her eyes angrily as she thought of the cruel and senseless Twolegs. "Wolves used to hunt their sheep, but only for food, and Twolegs hunted the wolves and took their fur." Wolfpaw's eyes widened as Rosefoot continued, "There are only a few in this area, and I've only ever seen them once. They're beautiful creatures, proud and graceful. Sometimes they live in packs--similar to our Clans--or they live alone, like rogues. But, like us, they can be savage, when nature demands them to be."

"Have you ever seen a wolf?" Wolfpaw questioned.

"Once, when I was an apprentice. My mentor took me on patrol and we saw one. We kept our distance, though; wolves, like dogs, are not fond of cats."

"Do they hunt us?"

"No. They hunt bigger animals, like deer, and sometimes rabbits. They never take another hunter as prey."

"So wolves live like us?"

"They're very similar, actually. Their packs are lead by a male and a female, and the rest of their pack is broken up into a heirarchy. Elders are respected and the young are trained usually by one or two wolves. They patrol and hunt and mark their territory like us. But they can communicate over long distances; something we cats can't do."

"How do they do that?"

"They sing with beautiful voices, howling their messages to each other. Sometimes they talk to other packs like that, or they call to their patrols. They also use their howling songs before hunts or simply for enjoyment."

Wolfpaw shook his head, amazed. "Wow! I think I'd like to see a wolf someday." He had completely forgotten about his dream.

"Wolfpaw, if you ever see a wolf, keep away from it," Rosefoot warned. "They're dangerous animals; just as you wouldn't walk up to a fox, you don't walk up to a wolf. They may not hunt us, but they hate cats and would either badly hurt you or even kill you if it caught you."

Wolfpaw fell silent, but he felt a rush of curiosity. _I want to learn more about these wolves,_ he thought. _I'm going to meet one someday, even if they _are_ dangerous. I'll show them that a true warrior can be just as dangerous as any wolf._


	6. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Warriors.

**Rated:** T

**Author's Note:** EQAO tomorrow and Thursday, then more reviewing and tons of homework, then exams...don't know how often I'll be able to update in the coming weeks, but I'll try.

CHAPTER THREE

_When Wolfpaw opened his eyes, the_ rain had stopped, though he could hear that the copse he and his mother sheltered in dripped with the residue of the violent storm. The scent of freshness had seeped into their dark den, coupled with the trilling of the birds that inhabited the pocket of forest perched on the hill.

He pushed himself to his paws, letting out a small hiss as his body yowled a protest. He had been forced to use his muscles to do tasks they were unused to last night, and he knew he would be unable to travel far today.

Sighing, he poked his head out of their den, looking out into the small ravine. Though many ferns had been nearly flattened during the storm, the area was still beautiful, and steamed as the greenleaf sun touched upon the water that dripped from every leaf. Wolfpaw padded out of the entrance to sit on a small, flat boulder outside the den, warm from the light that slanted through the branches above. With a _mrrow_ of pleasure, he lay down upon the comfortable stone, letting its heat soothe his sore muscles. _I wish we could stay here_, he thought contentedly. _There's plenty of prey, and we're sheltered here._

He was mulling over the idea of asking his mother if they could stay in the copse when Rosefoot stuck her head out of the den. "Good morning, Wolfpaw," she greeted him, stretching slowly. The queen winced as if her body ached too. "How about we do some hunting, then stay here for another night?"

He stood and nodded. "Great!" he meowed.

The two rogues padded slowly through the forest, keeping low with their ears pricked. Rosefoot opened her mouth to let the scented air flow over her glands. "Over there," she whispered in his ear, blinking at a moving leaf at the base of an oak.

Wolfpaw narrowed his eyes, and soon spotted the tiny woodmouse scuffling under the dry oak leaf. "I see it," he whispered back.

"Mice sense your pawsteps through the ground before they hear you," Rosefoot mewed quietly. "We're downwind, so it won't scent us. Try sneaking up on it. Bite it behind the neck to kill it quickly, before it squeals."

He dropped into a crouch, ready to pounce at any moment. He lifted a forepaw, setting it down carefully. The mouse continued about its business, unaware of its being watched. Wolfpaw continued to measure his steps carefully, getting closer to his intended prey every moment. The blood rushed in his ears, and he could hear the pulsing of the tiny creature's heart. He drew closer and closer, feeling triumphant. _I've got it!_ he thought.

Suddenly, the mouse's scent was fainter and the leaf stopped moving. Wolfpaw realized that the wind had changed, and his scent was being carried right to the mouse. Cursing silently, he bounded forward as the mouse shot out from beneath the leaf, his paws pounding on the forest floor. As the mouse tried to scurry into a hollow log he struck out with his forepaw, claws extended, and batted the mouse away. Winded, the prey landed on the ground a tail-length away and Wolfpaw pounced on it, finishing it off with a swift bite to its neck. The mouse fell dead at his paws.

He felt a thrill of pride, but at the same time he knew he could have done better. He looked up as his mother emerged from the bushes, and stood taller when he saw the look of pride in her golden eyes. "Your first prey!" she purred.

"I should have been quicker," he admitted, poking the mouse with his paw.

"This was your first hunt," Rosefoot reminded him. "You _caught_ the mouse, and that's what matters."

He nodded slowly and she nodded to the prey, meowing, "Bury the mouse and we'll pick it up on the way back."

He turned and kicked dirt over the piece of fresh-kill, then followed his mother into the bushes, feeling a stab of joy and freedom for the first time in his young life.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was sunhigh when the two cats returned to their camp, each carrying two pieces of fresh-kill. Wolfpaw's two mice dangled from his jaws, while his mother had a pigeon and a small squirrel clamped in her jaws. They sat down outside the den, eating their fresh-kill quickly, then grooming themselves with slow, contented licks.

Again, Wolfpaw thought of staying in the copse. He decided to broach the subject with his mother. "Mum," he began. "I was thinking...there's plenty of prey here, and we're sheltered. We're far enough away from ThunderClan territory that none of Snowstar's warriors will find us here. We'd be safe _and_ well-fed. The trees block most of the wind, too, so it'll be sheltered even in leaf-bare."

The dark ginger she-cat looked thoughtful. "I was thinking the same thing," she admitted, glancing about at the beautiful pocket of forest. "But..."

"What is it?" Wolfpaw asked.

"I would like to get a bit farther from ThunderClan territory," Rosefoot admitted, licking a darker red paw and drawing it over her ears. "You see, when you were too young to remember, Snowstar threatened to send some warriors to hunt us down, no matter how far we tried to go."

Wolfpaw shrugged. "Our scent was washed away by the storm, and we're quite far away. We're safer here, rather than in the open, anyway."

His mother's tail twitched and he suddenly caught her fear-scent. _There's something else,_ he thought. _Something to do with Snowstar. Did he do something to her?_

"Mum, it's too late in the day to leave now," Wolfpaw meowed. "If we do, we'll be without shelter tonight. Can't we just stay a few more days? Please?"

The dark ginger she-cat paused, clearly thinking about what he said. Then she nodded. "Yes, we'll stay a few more days, then we will leave."

Wolfpaw was relieved, though he still felt nervous about their final destination. "Where are we heading?" he asked.

"To the mountains," Rosefoot answered immediately. "When I was a kit, I heard stories about cats who lived in the mountains in Tribes instead of Clans. Their hunting methods and customs were different, but I believe we'd be safest living with other cats."

Wolfpaw wasn't too sure. The last cats they had lived with had wanted his mother and him dead. What if this Tribe was the same?

But still, he realized that, when leaf-bare came, two cats living alone were bound to suffer. There would be food and warmth if they stayed with the Tribe. And perhaps he could make friends among their apprentices!

The idea cheered him greatly, and as they went back to sleep in their den he dreamed of the mountains and the cats who lived there.


End file.
